Unbroken Mirror
by n2xn
Summary: What really goes through the mind of a skeptical boy? This is a collection of fan-made encounters told from Hikigaya's perspective.
1. Daughter of Minerva

"The arctic owl is a common variety predator bird of the Northern Hemisphere. They are beautiful white birds rarely found in Japan except in the northern regions. I saw one in Sapporo - a pearl I had to see, warming in the setting sun, as I remember - she was off in the distance. I knew she watched my approach, but I couldn't say how I knew. When I got closer, I could see bright yellow eyes, glorious like a sun - or rather they appeared provocative, similar to the sun when your mother opens a curtain to wake you up in the morning - anyways, she encouraged me with those eyes. Not once did she look away and even when I was beneath her perch. It was there that I saw a small rodent carcass lying in the shade of the tree. The welcoming yellow eyes abruptly turned devilish, carnivorous, and hungry. I was young then. I didn't really understand that she wasn't looking at me, not in the slightest, not with her eyes at least."

Yukino's eyebrows arch high an instant before she glances at me. Just as quickly, they descend, but not before a glint told me she wouldn't miss an opportunity to scorn my morbid story. I paused just long enough, but it was Yuigahama taking the lead.

"Owls can't move their eyes. They have to turn their heads at everything they see. Like this."  
Yui straightened her pose, she appeared both formal and childish. Her brown energetic eyes melt into a bloody amber reflection when wide open in the listless sunset hanging lazily through the clubroom. She puckered her lips into a beak, then quickly and sardonically craned her head left-to-right. "Hai-o Yukino - Hiki! I. See. You."

"Stop it Yui, you sound like some sort of fish-eye vampire stalker." There it was: low-key, inside, and ambiguous. Textbook Yukinoshita. Do they set up these one-two knock-outs ahead of time?

"How exactly would a vampire stalk fish eyes?" I wonder aloud. It is a sort of bait Yukino would never bite on, but she snatches it off the hook.

"Perhaps Dracula morphs into a white-owl on summer afternoons." Somewhere in the back of my head Komachi racks points up for Yukino. One, two, and three, but even I could laugh at it. There is a silence, it implicitly gives me permission to continue my unpolished diatribe.

"You see – a vampire aside - snowy owls and many other birds have astounding vision. Their normal eye sight is like looking through binoculars. They can pick out the smallest rodent in a field of grass over fifty meters away. These highly tuned senses have one glaring weakness: have you ever looked at anything that was too close with a telescope? It is fuzzy and indiscernible; however, her gaze followed me as if she knew. I must have been an amorphous blob in her vision. Maybe she remembered me as the boy in the distance. Had I been bigger, she would have been scared away. If I moved too quickly, then her flight response would kick in. If I was too much smaller, I may have been lying under the tree myself."

"That isn't very true Hachiman. Owls may not be able to see what is near them, but they have other senses. She could have heard you." Yui's response is timid. "She could have honed senses to protect her weakness. It is like a blind man using a cane"

"Or like a child reading." Yukino's rebuttal is acupuncture delivered in monotonic syllables. I almost missed it. She continues because - "Hikigaya, an owl doesn't just get extra sensing powers. She doesn't need to be near-sighted to live. You are thinking her senses are somehow supplementary to her survival, but they are complimentary. The proof is in the prey she hunts. When soaring through the sky, she can see the target and make judgments about its actions. When it's time, she will strike. She strikes knowing her limitations and knowing her prey. If the strike misses because of an unplanned attack, she has the opportunity to strike and strike again. Nature has sharpened her to a point where the other senses are ni- gross." – Because she isn't one for lauding herself over another.

Yukino stops short to comment on the creepy smile on my face. I chastise myself for nearly chastising myself for showing interest. She must have realized what she was saying was quickly drifting away from owls. A labyrinth opens in my mind as I begin to wonder about the sincerity of her remark; but, I shut the doors quickly, I can't zone out while she has a higher score.

"Yui, is Yukinoshita a cool name for a vampie?" _Yukinoshita, is spontaneity more true and reliable than a measured response?_

"Oi, I am not stalking y-" I decide to interrupt her thoughts for a second time, besides I still wanted to finish my point.

"Both of you are right. While in the wild, you will always find creatures adapted to the wild. There is no need for a bird to worry about one action or another. If restless: she flies. If hungry: she eats. It is when we look beneath this basic survival that we see the true savagery. There is not one owl, but many owls. Each had predecessors which picked to feed on the weaker and smaller. Somewhere in this lineage, the choice vanished and it got to where these birds must eat the smaller to survive. I could accept this, but as an owl - just table scraps between us - stared at me, I realized: there was no owl." They both stare and I look away, I could hear my tone go dreary and methodical. Camouflage to hide my anxiety.

"She had the beak and hunger, the eyes and aptitude, the color and beauty, and yet, this wasn't an owl. You see as she stared through me, I noticed her curiosity. It was as pure and plain as white feathers. With great sadness I recognized this innocent staring contest was a cry of help from an owl that didn't want to be an owl. She is not allowed to have contact with other creatures like me. Mostly, in a situation like this, she ends up food for some other creature. Since it was an insignificant event, she could share her conflicted secret. I adapted to this new unveiling then still something more sinister peaked out: right when it matters least, only then, can she be herself." _This is nature's tune and you dance until you can take no more and nature goes on piping._

Yui bursts in laughter. She is some kind of heartless monster. "An owl that isn't an owl? Hiki, you know there aren't vampires, right?"

Yukino's sullen look lifts with Yui's rhetorical question. She rejoins her book without any further response.


	2. The Gods Must Be Crazy (Part I)

Please, can someone tell me what Haruno is doing here?

Today didn't exactly start like most days. The classrooms were lie-velier, more so than usual, because a certain everything-goes-my-way Normal's birthday next week. The Lord must be proud of his squires, those wretched insects still buzzing about his birth so long ago. Somehow, even those of us with contempt were forced into knowing of its occurrence. All day I waited for him to blow a conch shell and have these fakes perform a sacrifice for his Grace. In retrospect, that was a far-fetched and unwise fantasy. Far-fetched, because they would never be so honest as to perform for him – unwise, because I would have ended up being the pig they mercilessly prodded with spears. Without a doubt the entire school would sacrifice me to their savagery, but that probably would have worked out better for me in the short-term.

I knew something went wrong when Komachi showed up to the Service club with a request. "I want to buy a gift for a friend's birthday . . . next week . . . a boy." I was anxious up until I found out she was looking for a gift for a boy – it was too coincided – after, I felt a sickening rage. Had Hayama really managed enough suck to compel juniors in lower schools? Worse yet, I couldn't figure how Komachi would have fallen for it.

I thought I had prepared for all possibilities, y'know, for when the world got tough. I would just get into a commercial red-eye, open the emergency exit, and be pulled out into the pacific. Damn it, I can't do anything right. I should have prepared to take my lil' sis with me, but my secret stash only had enough money for one ticket.

"Where have you been getting your water?" I stammered first lowly and then too loud. It was a strange last question to hear before being shoved into a suitcase, but for her, it was truly life or death. Komachi seemed not to mind, because she admitted to drinking bottled water. Care-free girl didn't realize I drink the same stuff. It seemed death was both of our choices. Can't have Hayama taking us all over. Before I knew it, I had pulled her halfway down the hallway. A sick unwritten haiku flashed brilliant before my eyes.

 _. . . Another haiku,_

 _Give me another haiku,_

 _Another haiku,_

 _Give me another haiku . . ._

"Bu-b-b-but-BUT I don't know Hayama!" Her shout gave it away. I can't believe she would be so obvious, there is no way she would have known it was his birthday and his name. She was stuttering, that means the virus has already spread to the prefrontal cortex, soon she will be catatonic and popular. I am still not sure which one frightened me more.

Yui caught up with us and informed me I was muttering about a surprise visitor from the sky attending his birthday, they were flying in on a cheap gull-plane. Well, two visitors – apparently, I wanted to know what Hayama would think of that - man was I embarrassed. Wait, had I really seen Yukino spit out her water?

Needless to say, after that commotion we had no problem fulfilling my sister's request. I felt I should still be jealous about her giving a gift to a boy, but I had just experienced my second self or communion with the three gods of destruction. The come down gave me a new found perspective on the issue: hitherto, Komachi is allowed to be cute, even when I am not around, enough said, signed Hikigaya Kachiman.

My nightmare continued even into the mall. Komachi had snuck off with Yuigahama to look at clothes her older brother shouldn't see. All previous contracts were voided at that instant, but I didn't want to make another scene and I let them go. Yukino and I found a nice place to sit and read in the food court. It wasn't too much different from the Service Club, but there was too much eye contact when we scoffed at the local consumers.

We were on our way to the small bookstore at the other end of the mall when we happened upon Hayama's entourage ad Yuigahama and Isshiki. It seems like all of my buttons were pushed today, but I found a moment to be grateful the three gods were still on my side and Komachi had already went home. _All contracts are hereby reinstated, addendum: stop making promises, signed (blank)._ It certainly wasn't a very legal contract.

Hayama passed judgment on Yukino - I was found guilty by association - and we were annexed to his entourage for their dinner. I should have figured out where we were headed when everyone called me Hibachiman, but I was too busy dreading the upcoming evening. Rightly so, as I judge it now. We ended up here in a large round corner booth, but our table was too small by one person. I thought twice about volunteering my seat for the commonwealth, then I remembered all of the help I have already given Miura, Ebina, Isshiki, and even Kamehayama himself. I solved the problem with equal parts chagrin and awe from the involved parties. I suggested we depose King to the outside corner; after all, it was his birthday. If I understood correctly, this was the real birthday celebration. The throne is his.

Our seating arrangement actually wound up quite nicely. Going around the clock we have Hayama on a chair, then me – Ebina was already suspicious I was trying to take him for myself and this arrangement had fit her fantasy – then Yukino, Isshiki, Ooka, Yui, Yamato, Miura, Tobe, and finally Ebina – apparently its perverted for me to sit near Hayama, but perfectly normal for her to want in on the action.

It may appear somewhat scandalous, our mostly boy-girl-boy configuration, but it resolves a whole lot more issues than I first thought it would. This isn't the sort of thing I like using my gift of sight for, but: Miura and Isshiki are apart while maintaining almost equal distance to Hayama, Tobe is near Ebina casually, Ooka and Yamato are both nice guys who should get along perfectly with Yui. Lastly, there is me breaking the pattern at the edge of table. I am actually grateful for Isshiki always suspecting my perversion because I really attained a silent victory in switching places with Yukinoshita. Now we both have plenty of room and I don't have to worry about Yukino's icy gaze if I were too close. To top it all off, Hayama is the outcast at my request, it is seriously the best, even if it is only in symbol…

 _Woh, is that what fake feels like?_ Maybe it is only this something pulling on my shirt and the faint scent of flowers whispering in this steakhouse.

 _Eikyuu Kesshin, lend me your sobriety._


	3. The Gods Must Be Evil (Part II)

I was at the Grill with an unusually large group of acquaintances. The food is that of a high-end traditional Japanese establishment, but it follows the _innovations_ of the modern age. The most obvious _innovation_ between traditional dining and this place is lighting; every wall and aisle rests beneath neon track lights of various shades. Corners darkened by shadows are eerie and psychedelic from the soft neon reflection. The next immediate contrast would be the distractions lining the walls. There are bubbling aquariums filled with fish, pearlescent paintings, and various other trinkets an epileptic should be cautious near.

Like most modern restaurants, they have a kitchen in back near the restrooms. To capture the more traditional _feel,_ patrons can watch their food preparation on a cell phone with just the push of a button. Not very many are likely to watch such things, but it does have some resemblance to the past. A stage near the center of the restaurant probably used to be a sushi bar, but now it is just a display for two-bit bands and wannabes. Fish of a different sea I suppose. I am grateful enough for the entire building with the large sign plainly stating Karaoke starts later in the evening, much later.

I was just thinking of the many other things I was grateful for when I first heard war coming my way. _Click-click-click-click_. A jammed machine gun of the approaching enemy. _Boom-boom._ The artillery firing from the same direction. _Run to the hills._ I could read anxiety rising at the table; It started with Hayama and changed into so many different forms as I looked from person to person. The most revealing of all seemed to be faces of Yukino and Yui. The conversation had died. _War smells like Gunpowder, blood, and the ocean. This smells like cherry blossoms, vanilla and the ocean._ I can't distinctly recall it, but I remember the same smell from before. I can't help but wonder why Haruno is here.

 _Don't look her in the eye, lest ye best turned to stone._ I casually glance lowly to my side to hide my suspicion. _Click-click-click-click._ My heart stops: single-shade high heels on small feet. _Boom-boom._ _Condition: Critical, we have been outnumbered!_ I thought I hadn't been noticed, but the artillery now rests somewhat cock-eyed on my shoulder.

"You don't have to be all sneaky around a lady." Haruno has modestly exposed herself by slightly crouching over my shoulder. Left and right cannon snuff out Ooka and Yamato with ease. A pesky sensation grew around my neck and I could only hope it is my inner angel balancing this devil hanging at my side. " You can just say hello, Hiki – gaya."

She whispered my name slowly and it burned slowly. _Fucking napalm_. Hayama could feel it too, because he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He flashed me a look that said, " _Listen Hikigaya, don't look this bitch in the eye_ … _or whatever it would be in my nice terms."_ I try to think of something funny to keep myself distracted, but I see Miura and Isshiki are now her victims too. It is either envy or jealousy. Haruno has nearly massacred the whole table with just her presence.

 _Like Mcdunolds._

That is all I needed to think of. My throat hissed when I finally inhaled. I thought it would be a lot easier to deal with her once I regained coherency. It seemed stark and simple: Haruno is doing everything she can to feel superior to this table. I am naturally inferior and she is just using me as a lever to amplify her _grace_. This is a shrewd strategy. The guys are emasculated twice: first, they fall before her charm and, secondly, they imagine themselves as [me] _just_ so they can be closer to that same charm. The girls are no better off. They just witnessed a primal takedown of their alpha and she clings to the beta like it wasn't worth her effort. It is simple. If I stay quiet and I keep my wall up, then I come out fine.

It all seemed logical in my head, but I knew something went wrong after I did finally look at her eyes. I had made a mistake. _Medusa_. It was exactly like the first time we met. She was showing me those fuck-me eyes. Who the hell gives looks at strangers that way, especially loners like me? What regular person would even respond to such an obvious manipulation? I felt exactly the same way I did back then. I just wanted to get her away. I think this feeling was the same as how people felt when they called me a creep.

I pushed Haruno away and attempted to muster disapproval on my face; however, I probably looked the same as any other time – that is, I don't usually express a wide range of emotions beyond bored and disapproval. I didn't have very much leverage at the time, or maybe it was just difficult to push someone away without groping them, but I only ended up sliding closer to Yukino. It was unfortunate because I knew the older sister had her in; will she always win?

"Aw, making room for your big sister." She found a way to flop down gracefully next to me. The side of her ass pushed me further down the seat. I turned sideways to avoid the danger zones to my left and right. One of her fingers traced spiral from the helix down to my earlobe. "Thanks, sweetie. I didn't mean to startle you, but I forgot about your sensitive ears."

I noticed the jacket and dress Haruno wore along with the rest of her charms. I couldn't exactly make out the color in the strange lighting, but they were dark blue or black. Gold, gemmed bracelets adorned her arms, and the two necklaces on her neck appeared to lay the yellow brick road to emerald city. Some may have found her ensemble to be sophisticated and elegant, and I knew that, because sophistication and elegance in fake world is gaudy and expensive in the real one.

Haruno had already won whatever this encounter was going to be. I couldn't tell how many she knew at the table, but they were still hanging on her introduction. I guess I was too, but I the only one with an excuse: she had turned me to stone.

"So this is your birthday party, Hayato. You should have told me you were inviting all of your cute friends." She giggled and it must have released her enchantment because Hayama could speak.

"I am surprised you could make it." Hayama replied in a nice way, but I could tell she wasn't invited.

"Well, you know how important childhood friends are, besides, our parents simply wouldn't have it any other way." Haruno confessed with sociopathic deflection and finesse.

"I guess that means you come with gifts." Hayama grimaced as the words came out of his mouth and for a fleeting moment it reminded me of when he told me that he really wasn't so nice. Of course, a façade will remain to the bitter end and a nice smile came out as he continued, "Of course, I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth." It didn't sound as smooth in Japanese.

"You are getting a horse!" Yuigahama shrilled, "That is so cool!"

I could see Isshiki and Miura nodding along with their eyes closed. They must be picturing Hayama riding along a desolate highway. I wondered if either would be riding along with him. I try to envision it, but an uncomfortable image of me riding in front of him came to mind. Fortuneteller Ebina must have been projecting with psychic powers; I could tell because of the creepy smile on her face.

"Wow, you really are perceptive." Haruno's reply didn't seem to make much sense at that instant, but she leaned over the round table to dangle a set of keys squarely in front of him. The added effect: now everyone knows he has a Lesux. I think Haruno is somewhat justified in her misunderstanding. A car could be comparable to a horse in some hybrid world of past and present. The ladies looked disappointed, but that is because they hadn't seen the wheels yet. They would certainly come to know a far more comfortable fantasy in the elegant and expensive vehicle.

I could read a lot of humiliation coming from Hayama as he reached upward for the keys. It wasn't obvious, but there it was in the way his other hand clenched the table. The keys were displayed the way a treat is presented to a puppy or a string held before a cat. My parents would have made it a point to give me this gift themselves. They would be there to share in the excitement. I guess if I were a father, I wouldn't want to see this smile on Hayama either.

Haruno came back down on the seat in the same graceful flopping. Once again, she was too close and I managed to somehow evenly divide the distance between the two sisters. I was now almost fully facing Haruno and my back faced nearly the whole table and my only friends. I considered this to be a continuing social maneuver. The sub-class loner who can't stand anybody appears to suddenly be only interested in the pretentious thing he hates.

I, too, am dead.


	4. The Gods Must Be Seeing Things(Part III)

A car would not work for my birthday. It is not because anybody would be able to give it to me in a pestering away, not even Haruno could. In my family, I would need to pay for insurance, fuel, and maintenance. I don't have a license, so that responsibility would land on my shoulders. There are taxes on gifts like that as well. Also, I would be giving rides to Komachi and her friends, and not to mention how the Service Club would want to use me. Job motivators and time constraints are the antithesis to my lifestyle, livelihood, and happiness – well, at least my lifestyle. In terms of ideology, every part of freedom a vehicle offers is chained to investment in society and I am just not so comfortable with that either. Additionally, I don't even need a car as public transit worked well enough so far. Nope, I would be left better off without a car.

It is different for Hayama & Co., because they have different concerns. There is no worry for paying anything because of the First National Bank of Thanks Mom, Thanks Dad; no, that is a secondary cause: The first reason he doesn't have to worry is because he rolled a six when he was born – I rolled a two max. He doesn't have anyone expecting the courtesy of ride sharing. They are deer caught in his headlights; instead, I am sure he could just offer a ride to any passersby, and there it is, he is on a date. In terms of ideological rejection, well he is kind of like a sock puppet, merely a second skin to the mastermind's hand, which looks like fishnet stockings pulled over a tuna. I guess that is the agreement before the house rigs the game in your favor and it is too late to renegotiate that deal now.

"I would kill for a car like that!" Tobe excitedly admitted he rolled at least a four, "I could go on dates" - maybe a five - "and just get away sometimes, you know." – Definitely a four.

"Oh, where is the first place you would go?" Yamato obviously had something in mind, but he pitches to Tobe.

"Mount Fuji." Tobe replied quickly, "I would bring my camera and find the tallest building in Tokyo and take a picture of the mountain, then I would go to Fuji and take a picture of Tokyo. I would also try to take pictures in between. It would be my photo journal depicting how nature changes depending on where you are at. What about you?"

"I would take up surfing one summer and drive to all the different spots. Just have a real good time at all the different beaches you know."

"I like both of those ideas. I would take the Tokyo to Fuji circuit over the beach. Sure, it would be dangerous at high speeds with all of the turns; plus, it is going through crowded areas and there will be the police. I would take side routes so they don't know where to lay traps. I wouldn't want them hacking my GPS so I would have to drive it a few times slow at first." Ooka laid his fantasy on the table. I can't really see him unless I twist my head really far, so I remained watching another table over Haruno's shoulder. I get the feeling he doesn't know anything about driving. "The beach roads would be an easy drive. It is really C-rank stuff, but you can test the top-end and that is never dull."

"What about you, Hikitani? What would you do with this car?" Hayama conveniently forgot my name even after Haruno phonetically illustrated it not moments earlier. I guess he meant what I would do besides driving it off a cliff with his friends laced together in the trunk.

"Return it to the dealership." I somewhat responded to, and command at, him. "You guys have explored a few of the many possibilities of a car; well, think about how many other possibilities a car has. There are a lot right? A mountain of cash is even better, because it could be any vehicle. It is the possible combinations of any car and any fantasy… Better still, it could be no car. Imagine what you can do when you stop restricting your imagination to five wheels."

I whispered the last part, only Haruno could hear it, and she covered a ravenous smile by twisting her head away. I am not sure what she found so delicious; honestly, I would not turn away a pile of cash. Yukino neatly packaged my thoughts for everyone: "You trade a car for money, just to imagine what you would do with the money. Aside from your age, why not take up gambling instead?"

"That is really inspired of you to ask, but I have had really bad luck since birth. That is why I secretly know I would never win. For me, gambling is the same thing as wasting an opportunity." I have always been shamelessly proud of sharing facts. Haruno regained composure as a waitress arrived for our orders. The staff in a restaurant like this often had personality similar to the ambiance, and that would make her a bubbly, colorful, hide-rot-in-the-shadows type. She looked skinny in her dark fitted polo and her legs were long in the matching skirt.

"Luck? Don't make me laugh. Your phobia of rejection has developed into a phobia of losing. No its much worse, you have a phobia of others winning too; after all, that is like losing, but vicariously. . ." Doctor Yukinoshita diagnosed my condition. I would have to be an owl to see her, but I knew the look of this Yukino: somber, ruthless – she was probably nodding her head along to her own prosody - but it's not like I ignored the younger sister, I guessed my powers of observation were stretched thin at that moment.

Haruno didn't look over, but the waitress stared at her expecting something – whatever-it-was wreaked - but nothing happened. She appeared only moderately unsettled after Yukino finished chiding me. Without a clue as to what was going on - her confident smile and four-inch notebook only adding to folly - I watched her try to initiate regular conversation with Yukino. "Oh, miss you must be talking about your ex, right? Why can't guys just be proud of their girl. I mean, even if you aren't going out anymore, it's like why not still be a good sport about her moving on to better things." I glanced momentarily at her name badge and her introduction rolled through my head: _Good evening everyone, my name is Kumiko and I will be your server, like okay_. _Oh and don't worry, laughs are on the house because I am tonight's entertainment._

"Yeah, why can't some guys be good sports?" Haruno stifled Yukino's correction. Her eyes casually incriminated me and I imagined my face wasn't burning - it is not as if I cared, I have had mix-ups like this many times, even Yuigahama thought we were dating once; but, it was plain weird when someone looked in on your personal life - that's all.

"Her and… him? _"_ I watched Kumiko's eyes boomerang over me and back to Haruno, and it didn't help when her confusion felt like a gut-shot remark about my appearance. "Well, I guess we all like strange things, but then who are you?"

"They're sisters." Hayama subdued his smile by wrenching his jaw into his hand. I had more to say about this guy, but a certain four inch notebook broke my concentration in its not-so-haphazard collision with my face. It crash landed on my leg with a page loaded down by orders staring up at me. The shogayaki plate at the bottom sounded like a great choice.

"You creep! You shouldn't be sitting next to her sister like that! Do you think you are some sort of player? You are just the sort of two-timing scum all girls look out for." She turned out to be the more outspoken kind. I could see Haruno's hot gaze from the corner of my eye. I didn't know what she expected me to do, but I idly flipped to another page of dinner entrees. "You don't think she can see right through you? Frankly, I am surprised any of these people would hang out with such a low-life dumpster like you."

Haruno turned away from me a moment before a few tiny white crystals landed on the notebook, a few dozen nested in Haruno's hair, and a few million stuck to across our waitress' black shirt. I followed the trail back across the tabletop to find Yuigahama, red and ready to scream, holding an empty glass vial of a salt shaker in hand. I put shook out the bound pages and left them on the seat near me.

"What the hell did you do that for?!" The salted waitress rocked the table under the palm of her hand as she shouted; instead of any response, Yuigahama swiped the soy sauce from the table center. It was somewhere between her unscrewing the spigot and trying to stand up when Hayama realized his evening would be soon ruined.

"Look you two," Hayama stood from his chair to be a mediator; he looked like a referee to me, except for his disgusting, compromising smile. The caster voice boomed in my head: _In this corner, standing at one-hundred-and-seventy centimeters and weighing in at forty-five kilograms, wearing all black and covered in salt. In this corner, standing at one-hundred-and-sixty-five centimeters and weighing in at forty-two kilograms, wearing the Sobu high uniform with red hair._ "This is just a misunderstanding. Miss, your remarks were pretty assuming and judgmental. You don't really know the first thing about him. Yui, I get that you are angry, but you don't have to throw salt at her."

"I-I'm sorry," Yuigahama looked contemplative and defiant, as if the peace-keeper hadn't swayed her, but she came around to a serene grin. His politeness managed to catalyze her own and made me sick. She wanted to please people, and here he was, the person of all people to please. Aside from being a little bit formal for an apology, the only other surprising part of her crossing the table happened to be a white-cotton panty show. I tried not to look as hawks certainly flanked me at either side. Face-to-face, she perched on the edge of the table, her knees seemed to build the bridge to our server. "No hard feelings…"

"… but someone has to teach you a lesson." Yui's voice didn't flare in triumph or elation, but she remained serene even as a bottle of soy sauce gasped and poured over Kumiko. I didn't expect it. Predictable Yui twisted in the new light; I really couldn't fathom how even her panties managed to lie at that moment. A perfect cover proceeding the discomfort and excitement within the silence of liquid steaming down black hair and clothes.

It was like that part of the roller coaster where you don't want to get on, and your friends make you, and you know what is coming, and yet, you don't; it could be compared to a creeping moment of reverence following by anxiety induced vomiting. I couldn't tell whether these were the girls I knew or a different breed. Would it be tears or hair pulling? Name calling or a fist fight? Fight or flight? My thoughts looped like this for a while, but even a pin drop would have pulled me out of the moment. The splash of the soy sauce dripping on tile awoke me knowing one thing: the bell goes ding-ding-ding.

Kumiko turned out to be a fighter, or at least, a little pissed off. Her hands wrapped around Yui's ankles, medium length nails dug into flesh, knuckles stretched white, and she pulled. The table groaned with the shifting momentum crashing on it. Saddled between ankles and legs, she struggled to reach the top of mount Yui, but squirming hips kept her off balance. With nothing to grasp, she anchored to loose clothing; first, she found sleeves, then a lapel, and finally the red knot draped over the blouse. After several tugs on the kerchief, she managed to hoist herself up the rest of the way.

Sprawled across the arena, Yui wormed backwards over the tabletop with red hair sliding and curling into pressboard. She couldn't make it very far. In fact, she didn't make it anywhere because her knees buckled around Kumiko's hips. After panic set in, she went after her opponents hair. Her eyes squeezed shut just before the first fist stung her cheek. The first hit, which could only be described as girlie, had been more of a second-knuckle slap without much wind-up or follow-through. It looked ferocious, even for a chicken wing looking hit, but not much else.

I tried to intervene, if trying is that thing which comes before failing. Getting out of my seat turned out to be quite the contortionist act with my legs twisted sideways on the ground. I saw Miura stirring across the table and she looked venomous. The shadow of mother-bear instincts sharpened her eyes to slits, and her hands began to reach out to protect he cub, but she reigned them in at the last minute. She must have worried about marring freshly done nails. It made me wonder exactly whose hair she wanted to dig her fingers into.

On the other side, Hayama – though already standing – remained motionless. Finally, I remembered my previous thoughts on him. The stupid fuck probably had a complete nervous breakdown. Usually popularity and drama go hand-in-hand and the choice is obvious, drama could be said to motivate his peculiar blessed existence, but he would be compelled to shatter a certain persona if he stood on the table and did something. My bloodlust must have matched Miura's in a way, but I would never beg for him to show me the nice guy he wasn't.

The struggle lost its coherency quickly, but Yui stayed defensive by keeping a firm grip on hair roots to hold the offenders head sideways. A pummeling of single-handed hammer punches indiscriminately dropped over her shoulders, but the landings were mostly benign. It really started looking messy.

I felt Yukino's fingertips cascade down my side until her thumb snagged my belt in descent. It lingered and pulled until I peeked over to her. Her free hand already curled under the table, she rolled her head in a gesture, and it appeared she wanted help lifting the table. I complied without hesitation, with a hefty shove, and the table teetered on its central ballast. The quarreling pair instinctively jerked with the changing incline, but nothing could stop their slow slide to Tobe and Ebina. On arrival, the duo split the two girls apart: Ebina ushered Kumiko far away from the table and Tobe coddled Yui on his lap.

After letting the table down, without the frenzy and distraction of flailing arms, I assessed Yui from a distance. Puffs in her hair framed a sore red face and a few scratches on her cheek. She would definitely bruise at a later time, but physically, she checked-out okay. While she recovered, the steam roller Yukino pushed me clear out of the seat, my best manners enabled me to lock elbows with Haruno and kept us both from falling. I pointed towards the exit to make sure the others knew where to find me, but no one really noticed. With a ban coming anyways, I figured escorting Haruno would be as good a way to leave as any other.

On our way to the front, I replayed my latest memories and noticed a smudge in them. I am an observant person, but something went below my radar and I couldn't find its trail. With precision empathy, Haruno pointed the way: "Is that the first time someone fought for you?"

"I can't really remember, but yeah, I'd say so." It felt like one of those things I should feel awkward admitting, but I had a feeling not many people had anyone to fight for them either - maybe they did - I put it on the list of things I didn't know. Kumiko rushed by us in small quick steps, undoubtedly going to see the manager.

"Here we are leaving a man behind." Haruno observed callously. She knew I was going to wait for them and I refused to give her a response. She leaned on my shoulder, the dark collar on my uniform pulled into my neck when her other hand pulled on its sleeve; our pace slowed to a flower-picking crawl, except there were undertones of sweet citrus and musk-like ocean breezes. "What are you going to say to her?"

I didn't have a good response for Haruno, or Yuigahama. I never needed to fight - a few mean remarks weren't about to change that – and it was not like I expected anyone to stand up on my behalf; seriously, that possibility never occurred to me. It all said a lot more about her than it would ever say about me. She didn't seem to mind when anyone from the service club berated me with their flak, here or there.

The manager pointing at the exit, appeared down the aisle in front of us. He said something when he got closer, I nodded like I heard it, but he kept on walking. When I didn't answer her again, Haruno approached from another angle. "She will do it more, if that's what _you want_."

"You are mostly right," I replied without squirming. "I resent that you'd think I could want her to do something so unnecessary, to hurt herself without any reason. Actually, it's quite more than resent, I wish you-"

I stopped talking before I could do something unnecessary myself. Haruno, ironically, had nothing better to do. "You won't tell me what you think about me, is that it? I hope it's not because you're hiding a sister fetish. Don't worry, I won't judge you. Just be honest."

I couldn't stand the way she looked up at me while awaiting a response, she needed so much attention. It wouldn't do any good to tell her that. Before I pantomimed a less controversial observation, she pushed the edge of my nose with a finger like it was a shut-up button. "You are just too cute! The way you try to pretend to be empty with all of your emotions swimming on your face is adorable. You don't even have to tell me you were about to lie; I know it."

"Well, if you were honest first!" I blurted out, flustered again. She smiled more and I thought it was perfect how she could tell when I was honest too.

"Honest?" She asked me quizzically, a finger on her mouth, eyes looking away. "Have I lied to you, if so, I can't remember."

I couldn't remember a time where she lied either, but as I searched my memories I saw her wide eyes staring, then she winked. "Screw you." I said in a plain tone and looked away, "Am I really that easy for you to read?"

"Oh, not just me." She managed to speak in a way scary enough to make me wonder, then she took me forward the last few steps out the door. "We have had a real breakthrough here, but that is enough of your 'honesty' for now."

I could see Hayama's car before we exited, or rather, I saw the giant blue bow on its cabin. I recognized a rusty needle sewing envy in waves around my chest, but then I realized the roof was black; on top of all the other car-related activities, it would also have to be washed every week to keep dirt from showing. It definitely wasn't a car seeking my endorsement.

"What do you think of it?" Haruno asked me as we separated. I took a look around before responding and she explained some more things, "Don't ask me too much about it. I only know what was told to me. It has a nice Playota engine, it really is a supreme luxury branding of one of their cars, so you know it is going to last forever without very much depreciation."

"High resale value is good, of course. It is a good-looking coupe." I hesitated about saying anything too much; I didn't know very much about cars either and I got the strange impression that she knew a lot more. I did like coupes, they were the closest thing to a loner car, but sportier cars came with higher premiums on the insurance. Nope, the true loner vehicles stayed the scooter, the bicycle, and the unicycle; I would've taken either. I had a bitter sweet moment looking at the interior: the black leather so dark and sinfully attractive, and the back seat was hilariously short in contrast to the spacious front. I imagined all his friends squeezing in like a clown car. "The chrome trim and black paint is also very nice."

"That is why I picked it." Haruno agreed with me. "My car is silver, buuut I am not a teenage boy, so I thought: what would he want?"

The restaurant door opened again with the rest of the group swarming out. They were all amped out on drama and yelling about the new car. Yuigahama and Yukino, last out, split from the group heading to the train station. One of these groups beckoned me, and I obviously took the nearest opportunity to join up with them.


End file.
